


Lost At Sea

by SomeBratInAMask



Category: Young Avengers
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Children's Crusade Spoilers, Depression, M/M, implied happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-20 00:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4766045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeBratInAMask/pseuds/SomeBratInAMask
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teddy opened Billy’s door and switched on the light. “Billy,” he announced, “it’s been <i>months.</i> Enough is enough.”</p><p>Or: Billy stares out the window, Tommy runs off, and Teddy leaves the bathtub. What happened behind the scenes before Teddy proposed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost At Sea

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this post: http://reincarnatedrainbow.tumblr.com/post/128603334821/something-that-just-hit-me-about-toward-the-end-of
> 
> It's my post. It's good to be inspired by yourself, okay?

    Billy stared out the window, greasy hair matted to to the glass as he sat curled in on himself. His eyes were empty, save for the skyscrapers outside. The reflections between the window and Billy bounced off each other like parallel mirrors.

“Billy,” Teddy greeted softly. He kneeled beside him, looking at the slight droop of Billy’s eyelids and the stubble dotting his jaw.

Billy didn’t lift his head. “Hey,” he murmured, sounding tired. All he did was sleep. There was a strong odor plastered to his skin. The same gray sweater swallowed his hunched frame as it had for four days.

“How are you feeling?”

Billy shrugged, glancing at Teddy. “A little tired, I guess,” he answered, trying for a faint smile that collapsed before it could reach his cheeks. He turned back toward the window.

Teddy let the silence fill the room like water. It felt hard to breathe in his room these days. Teddy dropped his head to Billy’s lap. “Please talk to me,” he pleaded, voice quiet. He couldn’t keep the weakness out.

Billy’s fingers weaved through his hair. It felt good enough that Teddy wanted to cry. He breathed in and out. “About what?” asked Billy. There was no inflection in his voice.

“Anything.”

Billy shrugged his shoulders again. Teddy waited for a response. For Billy to ask him how his day was, or even _“I don’t know what to talk about.”_ Billy didn’t say anything. Seconds ticked in Teddy's mind, pinching him, harassing.  

“Please,” Teddy begged, muffled by Billy’s sweats. “You’re all I have right now.” He stopped talking, then, because his voice cracked and he couldn’t go further. Billy still said nothing, but that was probably because Teddy was barely coherent. Teddy rested a minute longer atop Billy, feeling his pulse through his legs and trying not to cry.

Slowly, Teddy stood up. He bit his tongue, tears straining, and gently squeezed Billy’s shoulder. He walked into the hallway, holding his breath until he reached the bathroom and shut the door. He immediately dropped to the tile floor and gasped for a breath that opened the dam on everything that he couldn’t heal with time. He bit his palm, hushing the sobs that crawled up his throat and digging his fingers into his forehead.

He jolted around and quickly turned on the tub faucet, allowing the sound of rushing water to consume his whimpers and trap them inside the bathroom walls. He scooted closer to the sink, knocking the back of his skull against the surface a few times. He quit that soon and just tucked his head in his knees, entire body convulsing in massive heaves of hiccuping breaths.

The door swung open as Tommy started, “Did I leave the water on — oh, shit.” Teddy’s gaze snapped up, face automatically shifting away the red and swollen skin.

“Get out,” Teddy ordered, hoarse, and Tommy’s mouth clicked shut as he fell behind the closing door.

Teddy was considering shuffling forward to lock it when Tommy came back inside and leaned backward, hands clasping the knob behind him. He stared at his feet, looked handcuffed to the door.

“Is it Cassie, or your mom still?” Tommy finally spoke, pale hair falling in his down-tilted face. “Or the thing with Nate and Jonas? That was a pretty bad ending with Eli, too. Or is it, um,” Tommy licked his lips, “Billy?”

Teddy made a small _“ha!”_ sound, like a bitten off laugh. “I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “All of the above?” he guessed. “I hate everything right now.” He perched his chin on his knees, observing Tommy. Tears were stinging his eyes again. He didn’t grit his teeth, just let them go. The damage was done, it would be pointless to hide now.

Tommy nodded, took in a breath. “Yeah, I know. I get you.” He stepped forward till he stood in front of Teddy, then sat down with him. He kept his eyes on Teddy’s shirt. His fingers tapped the floor in a fast, anxious rhythm, the pace of a hummingbird. “I can’t stay here, Ted,” he confessed. “It’s a real buzzkill, if I stay any longer, I’m going to shoot myself, I swear.”

Teddy just sat there, processing. Tommy went on, “And I don’t really feel safe here, either, what with the Feds and all that baggage. Life of a wanted mutant criminal, you know." A smile tugged on his lips, like he was throwing Teddy a bone so they could joke around about how Tommy was going to be a fugitive all his life. Teddy didn’t laugh.

Tommy drew in a shaky breath. “Look, I just want you to know that it’s been great.”

Teddy didn’t want to face him. So, he didn’t. He watched the smooth, white ceiling above them. His bathroom ceiling used to have strips where the paint had bubbled and peeled from water damage, back in that one-bedroom house he shared with his mom, when he still had a home.

“Ted?” Tommy searched. He was actually looking at his face now.

“You’re leaving too,” Teddy replied, because that’s all there was to say.

“I’m — ” Tommy began, then hesitated. “I’d stay if things were different. You and Kaplan, you guys,” Tommy faltered, tripping over his meaning. He laughed, but it sounded almost hysterical. “I’m not heartless, okay? I’m not, like, skipping out in the dead of night because I don’t care. It’s been good, I know that; I’m not stupid. I mean, this Young Avengers schtick has been a fucking _ride.”_ Tommy waved his hand. “Ride’s over.”

Teddy’s eyes pressed shut. Tears pushed past and wetted his cheeks as he buried his face in his arms. “Please don’t leave me with him.” The words were in the air before Teddy even realized he had felt them. “I hate even looking at him." He couldn't stop. "It’s like he’s dead. Nothing I do affects him. Sometimes I think he’s getting better and that we can move on, but then he’s back at that _fucking_ window.” Teddy raked his hands through his bangs, clutching at the roots and wanting to _rip._ “I’m losing everyone.”

“I’m so sorry, Teddy.” Tommy’s voice wobbled. “I’m so sorry.” When Teddy looked at him again, Tommy seemed much smaller than he ever had. It struck Teddy with the image of the waning moon, bright and clear until it’s gone from the sky. “I can’t stay,” repeated Tommy. “I’m so sorry.”

Teddy clenched his jaw. He waited for his voice to strengthen before he told Tommy, “It’s fine. Just call us when you can.”

“Yeah.” Tommy took advantage of the out. He disappeared in a blur, though he could’ve been anywhere from New Jersey to the living room.

Teddy got up, locked the door, and turned off the faucet. The water was enough for a bath, so he put the plug in and stripped off his clothes. He hadn’t taken a bath since he was little. His mother had shampooed his hair the last time, styling a mohawk with the soap and making playful threats if he dared splash her.

The memory was so thick with the sensation of _home_ that he nearly cried again. Instead he settled into the tub, double the size of the one from his old life, and rested his head against the pristine tile that never gathered grime between the cracks.

He didn’t think about his mom. He thought about Tommy. Tommy, who didn’t have a home and didn’t want one. Teddy had been feeling stuck in limbo since things fell apart. Maybe Tommy felt more like a solid whole when there _was_ no safety net to entangle him.

Or maybe Tommy also felt bodiless, and just enjoyed the drift.

Teddy's eyes fluttered closed, meditating. He lulled himself into a steady, deep breathing pattern. He could smell the salt of the ocean. He was floating, his body a ripple in the water. An echo of something mindless and vast, without a mind. If a whirlpool took him, he'd go down without a fight.

Teddy slapped his hand against the wall, anchoring himself. His eyes flew open, the ocean gone and replaced by the second floor bathroom. His surroundings were markedly less surreal.

"Right," Teddy said to himself, adjusting to reality. He had been having an attack of some kind. He should take inventory:

He had filled this tub with water. He had locked that door. He had sat himself down. Those clothes on the floor were his, as was the green toothbrush by the sink and the washcloth folded in the shower caddy next to Billy’s razor. There was no razor for him. Teddy didn’t shave. He didn’t need to; he controlled his appearance.

He couldn’t control that his mom wasn’t here, that Cassie was gone, that Eli and Kate and Nate had left, and now Tommy was leaving too. He couldn’t control the way Billy was lost at sea, drowning in the same things Teddy was. But Teddy could control himself. And so he unplugged the drain, dried himself off, and put his clothes back on.

He opened Billy’s door and switched on the light. He couldn’t control Billy, but he could throw him a buoy if he was drowning. If they had each other, Teddy thought that could be enough for him. That could be their start. “Billy,” he announced, “it’s been _months._ Enough is enough.”

 


End file.
